


you are star stuff

by astrogyaru



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Awkward Carlos, Carlos Backstory, Carlos is a Dork, Carlos likes astronomy, Cecil Is a Good Boyfriend, Cecil doesn't quite understand, Cecil is Mostly Human, Cecil is bad at texting, Cecil's terrible sense of fashion, Depression, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Japanese emoticon abuse, M/M, POV Carlos (Welcome to Night Vale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 16:08:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrogyaru/pseuds/astrogyaru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos is a scientist. Scientists are self-reliant. (In which Carlos learns how to let someone love him)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly just me writing about Carlos dealing with anxiety and depression and how that affects his relationship with Cecil. Starts right after "Dana."

The sun has just barely set, the horizon tinged a deep turquoise in the west. Carlos watches the skies for any signs of stars, and though it was clear he could only make out Jupiter for now.

Carlos hadn't come to Night Vale to study the stars, of course, but as it turned out, Night Vale has hardly any light pollution. He doesn't think he's ever seen a place with a darker, deeper sky and he's spent enough nights staring at it to understand the terror the citizens felt, because he would be lying if he said he hadn't had his fair share of existential crises while laying on the roof of his lab at three in the morning when he couldn't sleep.

Sometimes the blanket of void and dark and light is comforting to watch. Sometimes Carlos remembers that he isn't looking up, he is looking down, too, and all other directions into a cosmic void with only a weak, theoretical force tethering him to a space rock that was, frankly, tiny in the grand scheme of things.

He had been standing outside his lab for a few minutes, craning his neck to look into the darker, higher parts of the void when he remembers to check his phone.

A text from Cecil, thankfully from only five minutes ago. Before Carlos checks the message he puts his phone on vibrate so he wouldn't forget. He typically has it silent while he works and tends to ignore people on accident for hours. 

_can u come ovr 2 my place??? （/｡＼)  
i miss youuuuuu_

Carlos stares down at his phone, long enough, apparently, for the screen to go black. He flicks the unlock button and types back a reply.

_Yeah I'll be right there_

Carlos is tossing his work bag into the back seat of his car when he feels his phone buzz again.

_o//3//o;;;;;;_

Carlos reads that over a few times, annoyingly unlocking his phone when it got impatient with his reading comprehension. He decides that what he was looking at must be some kind of face? Maybe? He knew Cecil had a penchant for horizontal (Japanese maybe? He wasn't sure) emoticons. And also for using terrible text speak like some kind of teenager. Though Carlos was sure that most teenagers could type better than that, he found it very cute, in a way. He types in, with some difficulty on behalf of his droid, a simple less than three to convey that he loved him or something. Carlos doesn't like texting.

_< 3_

_o\\\\\\\\\7\\\\\\\\\o )/_

Carlos throws his phone into the passenger seat at that, smiling a little in embarrassment . 

He arrives at Cecil's apartment pretty easily, considering that driving in Night Vale usually meant encountering some kind of horrific roadkill that still squirmed on the street or, if the Glow Cloud was feeling up to it, a couple of dead squirrels landing on his window shield. He's been here long enough to be used to it, and he feels a little proud when he simply swerves around the cluster of people conducting some kind of ritual in the street instead of being thoroughly creeped out and terrified like the Carlos of many months past would have been.

Cecil's apartment is on the second floor of his little complex. Carlos walks up the stairs and passes by Steve's place, where a large garbage bag is sitting outside the door. Cecil's been complaining about the bag for the past week, and Carlos laughs to himself as he navigates around it.

Before he could get to the door to knock, Cecil had the door open and was coming out to meet him. He had changed out of his nicer work clothes into some bright turquiose pajama... pant... things. They are tight around his ankles and a little short for him, showing his bare feet and just the beginning of his shaved calves. He's wearing a suspiciously familiar white tee shirt. That was also too big for him. That also was not something Cecil would buy for himself at all. Up close, Carlos could see the old, unrolled hem on one of the sleeves.

"Nice shirt." He says as he's pulled into Cecil's arms. He buries his face in his neck and inhales, smelling Cecil's odd, but pleasant scent, like vanilla incense. 

Cecil has Carlos by the lapels of his lab coat. His face breaks into a wide grin that was a little lopsided, but Carlos thinks it's adorable.

"You let me borrow it that one time I was soaked by that spontaneous, indoor rain cloud that appeared in your living room." He casts his eyes to the side in a show of faux embarrassment. "I never gave it back." 

This close, Carlos could see the tiny freckles on his nose, and his unsettling, but gorgeous, pupils. When Carlos figured out that the odd shape of them corresponded with moon's current lunar phase, he thought he could cry happy scientist tears. Instead, he simply told Cecil that he thought his eyes were pretty, which made him light up in a way that made his chest tight.

They go inside, Carlos taking his shoes off at the door while Cecil locks it behind him. He lined them up neatly on the floor, contrasting all of Cecil's shoes that spread out on the floor. The sound of them hitting the floor was impossibly loud, even as Carlos set them down gently. Cecil's place was eerily quiet when he didn't have a record on or the TV set to some old game show and Carlos feels uneasy as he came in.

"You alright, Cecil?" Carlos says as he turns to face him.

Cecil sighs and visibly deflates. "I'm just so worried about Dana."

He's upset and Carlos can tell, and he was never really good with these things. Carlos pulls him into a loose hug, Cecil's arms dangling at his sides for a moment before coming to rest around Carlos' waist.

"I know, Cecil," is all he can say. He wants to say that Dana will be fine, but he doesn't believe that himself. Everything had happened so fast; they finally made contact with her and then, just like that, they lost her again.

Cecil backs away with a sigh, looking Carlos in the eyes with a blank expression. He has a tendency to stare, and Carlos tried to bring it up a few times but always felt bad about nagging him. Which was silly, especially if Cecil didn't mind complaining about his chewing on air.

"Did you eat yet?" Carlos says, trying to break the tension.

Cecil seems to break out of his daze, blinking a few times before answering. "I had some juice and I was drinking it out back when I saw one of those fancy new 'super deers' run by and I just... well I had to watch it. It ran off into the street and I followed it a bit before getting lost- you know how it is with the roads- and ending back here and forgetting I was hungry. That's when I texted you."

Carlos isn't sure if he knows 'how it was with the roads' but it sure sounded interesting. He figures he would ask later though, maybe after they had dinner.

"Let's get some food, then." He pauses, thinking. "Unless you have something here to eat?"

"No, no. I don't have anything here that's like, cook-able. I can't really cook, so." Cecil drifts off and Carlos wonders if it was normal in Night Vale to eat out every night like Cecil seemed to do. When he first started dating Cecil, he was annoyed that after being in Night Vale for more than a year he still didn't know a lot of what seemed to be basic info about the town. But it's different, now. Now he loves that Cecil is another chance to learn even more.

"I can cook." He says offhandedly, but Cecil seems surprised and amazed and wants to know what he can cook and says he must be so smart if he can figure out how food works, and _gosh_ , Carlos is such a great guy.

"I'll cook you dinner sometime." He says and Cecil lights up and Carlos isn't sure if he was being serious but he knew he could probably cook Cecil anything and he would love it.

Carlos asks Cecil about the roads and the eating out and the people in the street on the way to the burger joint in Old Town, which Cecil likes because it's next to the fro-yo shop that isn't as busy as the Pink Berry but also doesn't have as many flavors. Cecil gives pretty vague answers, and Carlos could tell he was bored and maybe even getting a little annoyed with the onslaught of questions, so he filed away all the info Cecil gave him and decided to let Cecil talk once they were inside the restaurant. Before they had actually left Cecil spent a long time (by Carlos' standards, not Cecil's) deciding whether he should wear his sequin flip flops or his spider web cowboy boots he had just bought. He went with the sandals, since he was kind of in pajamas anyway and they were more 'casual' (Carlos had no idea, really, he just wanted Cecil to put some kind of thing on his feet so they could go), and they slapped against his feet as he walked. As much as he might have teased Cecil for taking so long, he did enjoy just sitting and watching him test out each pair in his own little fashion show.

They eat, and Cecil talks about his adventure with the deer, and Carlos kind of loves how he ended up with someone who doesn't hesitate to snuggle up right next to him in their booth while he complains about how the salad felt and tasted too much like rose petals for his liking (spoiler alert: it was literally a plate of rose petals). Whose freckled skin glowed faintly in the dim restaurant, whose nails were painted all sort of different colors that didn't make sense.

Carlos doesn't say so, but he spends the rest of the night thinking about how he kind of loves how he ended up with someone like Cecil.

It's dark out when they leave and Carlos tears his eyes away from Cecil to check the sky again. He's got one hand clasped with Cecil's, and he using the other one to point up.

"Look how clear it is!" He says excitedly, and he doesn't look but he knows Cecil is probably eyeing him suspiciously, what with all the 'terrifying void' talk. "Look over there, Cecil, see those three right there?" 

He turns to see if he's looking, and is caught between marveling at the clear night skies in Night Vale that he could honestly never get over, not when he grew up in the city, and marveling at Cecil, whose astriferous eyes looks up not in fear, but in a wonder that matched Carlos'.

"What's that bright one?" he asks, and Carlos knows that voice, that skeptical voice Cecil liked to use. He still hasn't convinced Cecil that the lights up there are the same things as the sun, but Cecil is looking at them at least and it's all he could ever want.

"Jupiter," he says, glancing up again. "Those two are Castor and Pollux. You can't quite see the rest of Gemini, though."

"Wait, Carlos, that isn't fair!" Cecil says, and he sounds so playfully offended that Carlos can't help the smile he's wearing. "You said the small ones up there were _stars_ , planets don't count."

Carlos only laughs and starts walking again. "They're not _all_ stars. The universe is full of so many things." He hears Cecil give an exasperated sigh and catches him wearing a wide smile in spite of it.

There's not a lot of people in the fro-yo shop, and Cecil takes his time filling up his bowl with all sorts of things. Carlos gets vanilla and sprinkles and brownie bites, because it sounds better than the blood curdle cream and orange milk sherbet Cecil gets in his. Cecil gets about every type of topping and Carlos insists on paying even though Cecil keeps saying _"no, gosh I wouldn't have gotten so much, Carlos no you really don't have to."_

Cecil picks a spot next the windows and they sit side-by-side. This close, Carlos can feel his warmth and his stomach is in knots. He offers Carlos some of the disaster in his paper bowl and he gives in after a while (it's as terrible as he thought it would be). Cecil laughs and says it's an acquired taste, and Carlos likes how he says the word "acquired." 

On the ride back Cecil fiddles with the radio and settles for a station playing some old, upbeat song, singing and dancing along to it and Carlos sneaks glances at him while he drives. He joins him at the chorus and his singing voice is terrible next to Cecil's and they laugh when his voice cracks while trying to hold a note.

They're back at Cecil's and he kicks his shoes off somewhere near the door where the rest of his shoes are scattered. Carlos sets his own shoes down somewhat neatly while Cecil goes into the kitchen saying something about wanting a drink. He hears Cecil fiddling with his records for a bit before music floods the space. Carlos walks down the hallway Cecil took, looking at the brightly colored walls and the pictures that covered them. He hears Cecil sing along to a line terribly and smiles to himself.

Cecil's place is cramped inside, but colorful and lively and lived-in. The floors and walls creak as Carlos walks, and he comes into the kitchen after Cecil to find it about the same as it was the last time he was there. Several boxes had been moved out of his pantry and Carlos watches Cecil half-assedly kicks them back in while saying something about how his landlord was there earlier for an inspection and needed access to the basement. Carlos glances in the pantry and sees a hatch in the floor he didn't notice before, and the boxes Cecil pushes in cover it up one by one.

Carlos isn't sure what could be under Cecil's apartment (or why he had a basement on the second floor) but he feels a little safer with the boxes piled there.

Cecil gets them both some brandy and they settle in on his couch, a small, sagging couch that's covered in quilts and pillows. Carlos sinks further into the cushion than Cecil does and worries that he might be swallowed or at the very least, unable to get up without struggling embarrassingly. He doesn't think about it now, though, and focuses on the man curled up to him and sips at his drink. Cecil talks and talks about his day and the show and Carlos sits and listens to him, indulging in the sound of his voice and rubbing little circles on his knee with his thumb. Eventually they're both done with their drinks, glasses abandoned on the coffee table, and Cecil is out of things to say. He plays with Carlos' hair and Carlos leans in to give him a gentle kiss. They hover there, their lips almost touching, before Carlos kisses him again and they go on like that for a while, just gentle, slow kisses and Cecil's hands in his hair. Carlos is glad that he had that drink.

Cecil gave him soft little kisses all over when he asks if Carlos wanted to spend the night, which made his stomach lurch with anxiety, and he thinks Cecil senses this because he adds in a playful, "not like that." They go to Cecil's room and Carlos steals one of his shirts back and sleeps in his boxers. They settle in on Cecil's bed, which is double sized (not too small, but not spacious between two grown men) and covered in pillows and a few stuffed animals. For a while Cecil is on his tablet on Facebook and the like while Carlos curls into his side and buries his face in the crook of his neck. He's tired and it's late and even though he always had needed absolute quiet and darkness to fall asleep he doesn't find it hard to doze off with the glow of Cecil's screen in his face and the music Cecil usually had playing in the background. When Cecil turns everything off Carlos is facing away and very much asleep, but stirs a bit when its suddenly silent and dark. 

Later Cecil curls up behind him and cries softly for a bit because he's just "so, so terribly worried about poor Dana." He isn't sure what to do, but hearing it breaks his heart. Carlos turns around and tucks him under his chin and they stay like that until they're asleep.

Carlos wakes up to a soft, "good morning, beautiful" and he thinks its the most wonderful thing in the world to hear Cecil say good morning. He stretches and flops over onto Cecil and kisses his neck while he giggles and says something about how he made coffee already and how he should get up and drink it before it goes cold.

They're in the kitchen with their coffee, warm and sweet, when Cecil brings up breakfast. Carlos teaches him how to make scrambled eggs and does most of the cooking with Cecil behind him, his arms around his waist and chin on his shoulder. Cecil is pressed close to his body and Carlos is breathing a little bit faster than he ought to be.

He sets the spatula aside and gingerly rests his hands over Cecil's. He feels Cecil nuzzle into his neck and pull their bodies closer. He isn't sure who starts swaying first, but they get a rhythm going of steady shifts of weight from one foot to the other, and when Carlos starts to laugh Cecil swings him back to give him a firm kiss on the lips.

Cecil says the eggs are Very Good, and eats them all up while going through his paper. Carlos checks his email on his phone and laughs when Cecil complains that he's slurping his coffee too loudly. He takes a minute to absorb this morning, with the pale sunlight illuminating Cecil's kitchen. And Cecil, half dressed with coffee and a newspaper, sitting cross-legged as he read, his long hair undone and tangled.

He doesn't want to tell Cecil that he has to get going, that he needs to go home and shower and change, because it sounds like an excuse. But Cecil gives him a smile and asks him to remember his medicine, and Carlos wishes he could take that smile and lock it away forever. Smiles are things to give and not to keep, though, and Carlos finds his shoes at the door and steals another kiss before leaving. 

He spends a moment resting his head against the steering wheel before starting his car. He spends a moment smiling to himself because of Cecil. 

He spends the rest of the day beaming with pride because _wow, I actually, finally, spent the night and didn't feel like crying or throwing up._

He reminds himself over and over that, yes, this is okay. This is good. This is _okay_. 

It's okay.

He's okay.

_This is okay._

In the back of his mind he thinks he is worthless and dependent and no good if he can only feel good when he's got someone to say "I love you" and that this really isn't any progress at all.

He remembers what Cecil asked him to, and swallows a small white pill before leaving for work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for: self-harm, suicidal thoughts and homophobia.

It occurs to him, half way through his day and having suffered through most of it with a pounding head ache, that maybe he should drink some water. He had spent the last hour or so bent over a microscope and as he stands up and rubs at his eyes his back cracks painfully. He wipes his glasses off and puts them back on, his blurred vision remedied. 

He slips into the back off the lab quietly, into their sort of common room that had food and a coffee pot that usually had something in it. It was tempting, but Carlos passed on the coffee, telling himself, _no you had three cups this morning, you were supposed to be cutting back on caffeine._ There were some water bottles chilling in a mini fridge in the back and he gulped down half on one noisily. He felt a little better and drinks the rest slowly, taking a minute to sit down, enjoying the little moment he had to himself in there.

Out in the lab he knew someone was probably looking for him, but that could wait. He placed his hand on his chest and his heart rate seemed normal, but he took his pulse properly and jotted it down.

It isn't really much of a panic attack, just a little anxiety, just a feeling of being trapped that he sometimes feels when his vision is confined to the little world under his microscope for so long. He records it anyway; he liked recording things. It made him feel a little better about the absolutely, terribly irrational part of him. The part of him that, since middle school, made everything so much harder, so much more impossible.

He hated it. 

He hated himself, too. Not every day, but enough for him to consider the terrible things he thought pretty normal. Those days he didn't like to think much at all, and he threw himself into his studies.

It turns out that being able to do mass amounts of tedious work and memorizing lots of information can get you pretty far in life. If there was one thing Carlos could find to sorta like about himself, it was that he was damn smart. He didn't think so when he was younger, because he was just the weird little Latino boy in his white class who didn't talk much and most of his teachers thought he was on the slower side, but when he got older and could choose his own classes he picked the hard ones because he thought he could do it, and he _could._

At some point in his life, he went from being small and tossed around by the other boys who called him a fag to a pretty attractive and tall teenager... that still got tossed around and called a fag. But he got other kinds of attention, mostly from interested girls that eventually gave up when he revealed that he had the social skills of a rock. 

He went to his first dance junior year. It was homecoming and he went with a couple of friends he made in his biology class. They were all pretty dorky and single, but he had enough fun with them. When a slow song came on his friend, Marco was his name, grabbed him by the waist and swayed them side to side dramatically, and well, Carlos put his hands on his shoulders and laughed and kind of liked how it all felt.

Looking back, Carlos knew he probably made it pretty obvious he had a crush on that kid. Like, really, really embarrassingly obvious. That was before he knew for sure he was into dudes, and he's sure all his friends could tell he was gay before he even could. He wasn't sure if Marco was though, not for certain.

He kissed Carlos one day after school, when they had stayed after for a couple hours for chess club. They were sitting on a cold slab of concrete, legs crossed and facing each other, some day in early spring, right when winter was ending and it was sunny and freezing. Carlos didn't have a jacket and they were sitting a lot closer than two straight guys would have, and when Marco saw him shivering he rubbed at his arms and, oh, when he leaned in and took Carlos' face in his hands it was like a lot of things just made _sense._ There weren't a lot of words said, and the days after it happened Carlos had felt a sort of excitement, thought that it would lead to more. But after that things were only ever more and more awkward, and he drifted away from the whole group.

He rationalized his loneliness by telling himself he was better off not having a lot of people in his life. _Friendships and relationships are useless attachments,_ teenage Carlos would say.

By graduation, he couldn't say that he had a lot of friends, and he heard that Marco was joining the Marines. He almost, _almost,_ killed himself spring of senior year, almost swallowed his whole bottle of Xanax. He didn't know if it would kill him, didn't know who would find him, didn't know if he really wanted to do it. He thought about what if he took it and regretted it, what if he had to go downstairs and tell his mom and dad what he did so he could go to the hospital.

They didn't need that, didn't need the worry and the bill, so instead he sat on the floor and cried for hours, using a sharp pair of scissors to scrape cuts into his shins until he fell asleep, exhausted. He still has the scars. His dad had asked about them once, tentatively and quietly in his study, but dropped it when Carlos wouldn't give a straight answer.

Carlos had applied to a lot of colleges in the winter and ended up going to a nice, big university on the other side of the country. It was a nice change, a nice start. He didn't make it a secret in college that he was gay, didn't feel like he had to. He lost his virginity to his first boyfriend, a chemistry major that he dated for a month. College was a lot of awkward flirting and one night stands and hurt feelings and experimenting and false starts. The first time he bottomed he ended up pushing the guy away because he was hurting him, but he later got with a guy while he was drunk and figured he liked it well enough, enough to be able to enjoy it sober.

He had a breakdown sophomore year. An absolute breakdown that he doesn't like to think about because it was embarrassing and terrible, and he got himself sent to the hospital because he made himself sick. In the hospital he rambled a lot to his dad, who he felt he could talk to, about school and how awful he felt all of the time. He came out to him and cried and it was very embarrassing, but his dad gave him a warm hug and told him it was okay. He was behind in school for a while, but he got himself caught up and started seeing the counselor there. 

He spent a lot of time outside at night, just sitting and collecting himself. When the skies were clear he liked to figure which stars were which and which ones were really planets. He liked to watch how the constellations and stellar objects moved over time. There were some nights he felt suffocated by the sky and those distant, massive objects, but it wasn't unpleasant.

The rest of college he was more put together, more responsible with himself. He kept himself pretty healthy, exercising and eating pretty well. He was terrible at remembering to take his meds, though, and went six months without them before having another breakdown, though it wasn't as serious as the one before. Carlos liked to ignore his mental health problems, thought usually that it was all in his head and that he was being stupid and was bringing this all on himself.

He thought that way because, really, none it of it made sense. It didn't make sense to him at all and when things didn't make sense they weren't really very real in his mind. He needed to be reminded a lot that he had an illness and that it being a mental one didn't make it less real. He felt like when people told him that they were empty words.

Carlos didn't date a lot those years. His boyfriends didn't last long, usually because he wasn't very good with the whole relationship thing. He liked being single, though. He liked the independence. He liked that when he was better it was because he got himself better. He liked to do things on his own.

He liked science, like concrete, conclusive facts and dabbled in all sorts of different fields trying to find what he liked. He liked astronomy and astrophysics, but figured he would find more work as a biologist. In the end, it didn't matter what he majored in because he was sent to Night Vale and found that no one area of study could be explored by itself there. His wide range of experience in different fields of science was partially why he was the best for the job.

He had a soft spot for astronomy, though, and the first few months in Night Vale he went to go see the lights above the Arby's, bringing a telescope and taking notes. It was all very inconclusive, and he found himself going there just to watch them most times.

In the now, Carlos sighs, a long, drawn out sigh when he knows he has to get back to work. He tries not to think about Cecil, tries not the think about how he doesn't need anyone, really. He tries not to think much at all.

But he does think about before all of this, before he called Cecil for "personal reasons," before when their relationship was one-sided and when it was easy to ignore Cecil's advances.

It wasn't ever easy, though, and Carlos felt guilty when he straight up told Cecil "no" when he asked about dinner or weekend plans. Because he really did like the guy, he did. Cecil was cute, a little older than Carlos, but was cute and covered in freckles wore really weird clothes that he figured out were considered "fashionable" by Night Vale standards. He spent a lot of time wondering what it would be like if he asked him out, or if _Cecil_ asked him out, but after a while he backed off. Carlos would be lying if he said he wasn't a little disappointed. 

But then, oh but then, Cecil had asked him to come to some ceremony he had planned for him. One year after Carlos had arrived. One year since coming to Night Vale, with not much to show for it. Carlos knew that maybe going to the bowling alley, demanding answers and storming into the pin retrieval area, might have been a little reckless, but he was terribly frustrated. With himself, with his work, and with this damned town he had come to study.

When he felt the first hit he was so startled he hadn't really believed he was in danger for a moment. Then they kept coming, hitting him in the chest and abdomen and he fell forward, gasping in pain.

In those moments, when Carlos could feel his own blood seeping through his shirt, dripping onto his hands as he clutched his wounds, Carlos was terrified. He realized that he really was terrified of death, of an uncertain end, of not existing. 

He had never felt so desperate in his life. He brushed past Teddy Williams, ignoring him when he called out to him, saying he still needed some patching up. Carlos went straight to his car, not sure of where he was going, thinking only that he needed to go somewhere, that it might be nice to watch the lights. He started his car, forgetting that the radio was set to NVCR.

Carlos had caught the show right at, "he's okay, he's okay," and he thought his heart could tear from his chest. He didn't even think about it, just pulled out his phone and hurriedly texted him, his fingers shaky and coated in dried blood.

He peeled off his bloody labcoat and shirt and pulled on a clean flannel he had in his car. His body hurt and changing was painful, but he had heard the intense relief in Cecil's voice, and he knew Cecil was probably terrified. He was trying to seem less injured than he really was, wasn't exactly sure why he cared so much about if Cecil saw all the blood.

When Cecil showed up and asked him how he could help, what scientific explorations needed his assistance, Carlos' heart broke for him, so he simply said, "After everything that happened, I just wanted to see you."

As he said it, he realized it was true, so obviously true and he wondered why he tried to avoid this so long. He looked at the sunset, and he knew he was safe. He knew that this town, that had been so scary and hard to understand, the fear of the unknown so paralyzing and massive that he never thought it could be anything more. But Night Vale was something else entirely, and he said all of this to Cecil, mostly rambling, and he sat down next to him on his car.

They were still for a moment, looking up together, their shoulders touching. Carlos wanted Cecil to _know_ , to really know that so much was different now, that there was so much that could be. He put his hand on his knee, putting his weight against Cecil as he tried to hide his pain. He felt Cecil lean his head on his shoulder, their little moment there so perfect, so much more poignant than any moment they could have had before. Because the weight of what could have happened was draped over them, and Carlos felt a tightness in his throat, thought maybe that he could cry.

He thought maybe, maybe...

Maybe it was okay, just this once, to have someone love him and gush over him and give him attention.

Weeks later, Carlos is sitting in his lab, still dehydrated and exhausted for no real reason at all. He thinks he hears a buzzing, a sound he thought he's been hearing for a while. It's the third time when he realizes, _wait, shit that's my phone_ and then _wait, **shit** I was supposed to pick Cecil up and go out with him_ and he scrambles to answer it.

"Hello?"

There's a pause. Carlos cringes.

"Where are you?" Cecil asks, and his voice sounds so hurt.

"I'm... I'm at the lab. Shit, sorry Cecil... I-"

"So you're not coming, or...?" 

Carlos feels that nauseated, heavy feeling of intense guilt and he can only give Cecil lots of apologies and tells him he lost track of time.

Cecil sighs, so disappointed and... angry? Probably angry. "Alright, well, do you still want to come over?" 

Carlos is surprised Cecil asks, because it's like having another shot, another chance. 

But...

But thinking about heading over there, where he knew Cecil was probably pissed and disappointed in him, made him want to vomit right then.

He tells him no, that he's tied up and can't come over tonight. Cecil gives him an "Alright, bye then," and it feels so cold and terrible.

Carlos spends the rest of the night feeling like the worst piece of trash and doesn't sleep much at all. He wakes up early in the morning and feels sicks and terrible but he puts himself together because somehow, _somehow_ , he's going to make this up to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's kind of a chronological clusterfuck, but this chapter continues where the last one left off, goes into backstory mode at "He hated it," and continues again at "Weeks later, Carlos is sitting in his lab..." if that makes sense.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so I said the next chapter would come up soon but it's been so long! I wrote the ending before the next chapter and was stuck for ages. Also smut finally happens in the next chapter.

Carlos decides that guilt in the worse feeling in the world.

His whole body feels heavy and there's a weight on his shoulders, around his chest and neck, like something pushing him down, and down.

It's around one in the afternoon and he's at the Ralphs and is the most pathetic person to ever go grocery shopping. 

He feels the weight of all the eyes on him. He has never been glared at by so many people at once. He has never been glared at by a group of angels, either, so today is a day for firsts. It's been a few days since he accidentally stood Cecil up. Or a maybe a couple weeks, he wasn't sure, he didn't want to think about it. He's been texting Cecil, though, but he hasn't seen him and their conversations always felt stiff, and he could tell Cecil was mad even if he wasn't saying so.

There is a precious monologue in his brain that's simply variations of "please don't talk to me, don't look at me, get away from me" but it does nothing for him as Old Woman Josie inches closer to him in the dairy aisle. 

He awkwardly acknowledges her in hopes that would be enough but she starts to make conversation and he screams in his head.

"Fine day for science."

"Yep."

"Gettin' a lot done at that lab o' yours?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Must be real important."

"Uh huh."

"More important than your boyfriend?"

Carlos actually looks at her, because he wasn't expecting her to bring it up and was offended that she would switch up their already awkward discourse with a question like that.

"No. Of course not."

She gives a patronizing nod.

Carlos stammers in frustration. "Look, I can't always control what has to come first. That doesn't mean he's not more important."

"I'm not the one you need to be trying to convince," she says, giving him a look over her glasses and moving on, her group of angels clumsily following her.

He sighs and pushes his hair back, looking up at nothing in particular. It occurs to him then that he should buy stuff to make for dinner, since he's been telling Cecil that he's going to do that for a while now.

Cecil ends up meeting him after work, surprisingly not trying to hold a grudge like Carlos thought he would. They get food and eat outside together, sitting on the hood of Cecil's car.

Cecil gets to chatting about his day and it's a lot less awkward. Carlos sits and listens and engages himself enough to keep the mood up, interjecting here and there as Cecil talks.

That is how Carlos preferred his conversations to be, just sitting and listening, but especially with Cecil. He is an animated speaker and telling stories is what he loves to do. Even if it's relatively boring Carlos can see him light up as he talks about his day, and he doesn't want Cecil to think for a second he isn't listening, or isn't interested.

Carlos knows all too well what it's like to talk and have someone ignore you as you spoke, and it was painful and terrible and he never wanted to do that to Cecil.

"Are you still going to cook for me sometime?" Cecil says out of the blue.

"Yeah." Carlos says eagerly, but isn't sure if he actually will.

"You'll cook us dinner, and we can eat in?" Cecil 's voice is so hopeful, and Carlos knows then that he has to do it now.

He nods and gives him a quick kiss. 

Cecil smiles widely, but then goes quiet, looking down and away.

"I guess you want me to take you home, now?"

"Do you want to come over?" Carlos suggests, and he sees how Cecil's eyes glance up at him, quickly and hopefully. He sees Cecil try to swallow that, because Carlos has definitely given him a fair amount of disappointment.

"Can I?" 

"Mmhmm," he murmurs, watching how Cecil is wringing his hands in his lap and taking them gently. They sit like that for a moment, before Cecil gives him a quick kiss on the forehead and hops off the car.

Cecil drives them and they're quiet, with only the quiet music on the radio filling the space. It's dark out and the streetlights flood their vision. 

They arrive and Cecil parks next to a few other cars. It's late enough that Carlos is sure that no one else would be down in the lab, but he was still nervous as they walked in. 

It's dark inside and Carlos lead Cecil up the stairs, not bothering to turn the lights on to navigate. He brings him to his door, one of several on the second floor that leads to a small studio apartment, just big enough for him, really. 

Cecil goes in and he can tell he's excited, because he doesn't get to come to Carlos' place very often. It's fairly clean, thank god, but the bed is unmade and Carlos inwardly cringes as Cecil flops down onto it, not caring one bit.

"Will you take my shoes off?" Cecil whines, dangling his feet off of the bed. He's wearing a pair of blue oxford dress shoes and no socks. 

Carlos sighs as he settles onto the floor in front of him, and Cecil giggles when his hands touch his ankles.

"You're so needy," he says, but he isn't complaining. He works the shoes off his feet and rub at them a bit, placing the pair neatly on the floor before getting to work. Cecil gives a groan as he works at the fleshy inner parts of his feet. 

"Oh, that feels nice," Cecil says into the air, an arm covering his face.

"You shouldn't wear such uncomfortable shoes." Carlos kisses the top of his right foot, right under the joint of his ankle. "Come on, let's get changed."

He pushes himself off the floor and offers a hand to Cecil, which he happily takes. He could have kept touching him, could have worked his way up his legs and taken him right there, but he wasn't ready to touch Cecil like that. He wasn't ready for Cecil to touch _him_ like that. Instead, he pulls him off the bed. Cecil embraces him as he stands, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, then on the lips.

Carlos laughs, because he's being flirty and handsy and he's a little uncomfortable. Not because he doesn't want it, not because Cecil is going too far, but because he is afraid. He pushes him away, gently, and turns to his closet.

"You wanna borrow some sweats or something...?" he asks, rummaging through his stuff.

"No, I'm fine," Cecil says, and Carlos blushes hotly as he sees Cecil pull off his pants and flop back onto the bed. 

He clears his throat as he changes into a t-shirt. "You want a shirt, then?"

Cecil is wearing a silky lavender shirt with long sleeves. It hangs off his shoulders and exposes his neck and clavicle, a part of his body that Carlos really, really liked.

"Hmm," Cecil hums behind him, and Carlos turns to him for clarification. He's laying on his back and looking at him from under his eyelashes. He gives a soft "yeah" and moves to sit up. 

Carlos gives a soft chuckle in return, because Cecil is acting spacey again and he's trying to cover up how insanely awkward he feels at the moment, because even if Cecil was being spacey it didn't mean he wasn't incredibly sexy as well. 

They get to sleep eventually, Cecil wearing a grey t-shirt and briefs, Carlos wearing long sleeves and sweats. Cecil is cuddly tonight, pulling Carlos against him, sighing into his hair, turning around and pushing his back to him so they're spooning.

Carlos doesn't get to sleep for a long time. He listens to Cecil's breath get ragged, loud, turning into a soft snore. He counts the freckles he can see. They're on his arms and legs, on the back of his neck, on the back on his hands.

Carlos finds constellations in the little dots on his skin. Cecil's skin has a soft glow to it, and Carlos' fingers are tinged red as he traces solar systems on his arms. 

The night is taking forever, and Carlos wants to move, wants to toss and turn, but he stays still against Cecil, their bodies locked together. 

Carlos wants to touch the galaxies under his hands, the one at the dip of Cecil's hips, the in the small of his back. His breath is hot against Cecil's neck and his heart pounds in his chest. He can't tell if he's anxious or aroused, probably both. He'd be mortified if he got a boner and woke Cecil up by accidentally poking him in the ass with it.

Carlos moves his hips away from Cecil and thinks about the bits of the universe in their bodies, the water from comets that makes up their skin, the iron in their blood that destroyed stars.

Underneath the hand at Cecil's waist are the atoms that made up the bones of dinosaurs, the same molecules that floated in space for millennia before they made up the core of Venus. Carlos feels Cecil's body rise and fall, and thinks about the air in his lungs, and how it was once breathed by kings.

He thinks this all about the man laying next to him, but he doesn't think about the air rushing into his own lungs and how the oxygen given to him was born in the death of a star. He doesn't think about that when his chest rises and falls, when the air never seems like enough, when he's laying next to a man made out of comets. 

Carlos is hyperventilating now, and he forces a hand over his mouth and nose, forces himself to stop breathing until he can let out one long, shaky breath. There are tears in his eyes and snot in his nose and his heart is pounding.

Cecil doesn't stir, and he eventually falls asleep with his face buried in his hair.

"Sleep well?" Cecil asks him groggily, just as he opens his eyes.

"Were you watching me?" Is the first thing Carlos can think as he sits up. He winces, because it probably came off as really rude.

Cecil pushes hair out of his face, not caring how tired and grumpy Carlos seemed, just content to touch him so sweetly. 

"Mmhm, for a little bit. I was waiting for you to wake up." 

Carlos sighs and forces his eyes open. They're heavy and dry, but he smiles at Cecil when he gets a proper look at him. His long hair is pushed back and tangled, sticking up all over.

"I like waking up next to you," Carlos says sleepily, watching Cecil light up at his words.

"I like sleeping next to you," Cecil says in return, still stroking Carlos' hair, though it is all out of his face now.

Carlos lets him pet his hair for a while before he complains that he needs to pee, so they both get out of bed.

"You don't look like you slept much," Cecil says over coffee. He swings his legs under Carlos' small kitchen table, still only in his underwear. 

"I couldn't sleep. I had a panic attack." Carlos says into his coffee, not having to look up to know the look of concern Cecil wore on his face.

Cecil sputters a bit, trying to find the words he wanted to use, obviously trying to be careful. Because Cecil is always careful with his words when it matters. "Do you know why?" He asked softly, and Carlos looks up then.

"I started thinking about how we were created. About how, since our cells are constantly remaking us, that the atoms that make us up aren't the same as when we were born. How nothing is always made up of the same exact atoms for very long."

Carlos hears Cecil inhale as he listens, and he decides to go on.

"Cecil, do you know how stars die?"

He sees him shake his head.

"They can implode when iron is created in them. I just kept thinking about the iron in your blood, and how it killed stars. And... the water in your skin." Carlos trails off, feeling awkward as he spoke.

"The water in my skin?" Cecil asks, and his eyes are lit up with curiosity. 

"It's said that water could have come to earth on comets. That means your skin is made out of comets, most of you is." As Carlos speaks he can hear his voice getting shakier, so he pauses to drink more of his coffee.

Cecil cocks his head to the side. "You're made of comets, too," he says in a playful tone, grinning at him, and Carlos is taken aback.

"No I'm not," he says instantly, instinctively, even though it goes against everything he just told Cecil, everything he always thinks about him.

Cecil furrows his brows in confusion. "You're made of the same stuff as me, aren't you?"

Carlos clears his throat, he sighs, he takes another drink of coffee. "Yeah, I mean, yeah I am. We're all star stuff." He says the words he's heard countless times from his professors, from astrophysicists on TV, and he feels a little corny.

He's never applied to words to himself, though. He isn't star stuff. _Cecil_ is star stuff. Cecil is comets and stars and galaxies and Carlos is... Carlos.

Cecil sighs a long sigh, closing the conversation. "So what are you doing later today?" He asked, looking down at his phone.

Carlos shrugs. "I don't know. I wanted to look at some plants we found, have some tests done on them."

Cecil tilts his head back and looks down at him from under his eyelids. "You're not going to start testing them at 4 o'clock and then end up studying them all night, right?"

"Well, I mean, I don't know-"

Cecil cuts him off by raising his hand between them. "Carlos are we _ever_ going to have a proper dinner together again?"

Carlos was ready to keep talking, but deflates at Cecil words. "Y- yeah, we will, I promise I'll cook, okay?" 

"You've said that lots of times before!" Cecil says, raising his voice. "Are you ever _actually_ going to cook me dinner, though? Really?" He pauses, sighing. "You need to stop putting science before everything else in your life."

Carlos huffs, and then lets it go, because he knows Cecil is right. "Yeah, I will, tonight, okay?" He says, though he's cringing at his own words, because he would love to just lock himself in his lab for a couple weeks if it meant he could prolong their next date.

He feels tremendously guilty for that, though, and as he and Cecil get dressed he can sense the awkwardness, because as much as he loves Cecil he still feels sick at the idea of going on another date with him.

It hits him as he thinks this, just as he's telling Cecil goodbye, _that he really does, truly and honestly love Cecil_. As he is going out the door Carlos pulls him into a kiss and whispers "love you" into his ear before kissing him again on his cheek, grinning when he sees the deep blush Cecil is wearing as he closes the door.

Carlos does little work that day, despite how terribly interested he is in the army that was apparently heading towards Night Vale and a blinking light on a mountain. He keeps thinking about that morning, the things Cecil said to him, how guilty he felt.

He almost went out though, because what Cecil was talking about on the radio sounded a lot like a mirage he had seen before and he wanted to know for sure, but just as he was about to leave he saw Erika perched on his car and he decided to head back inside.

Carlos sends Cecil a text as he gets in.

_i'm going to cook at your place, okay?_

He gathers what he needed, knowing that if he came out wearing an apron instead of a lab coat that Erika would move out of the way. His phone buzzes in his pocket.

_ahhhhhhhhhh really?? are u really cooking 4 me? o 7 o_

Carlos chuckles to himself at the response, because Cecil sounds so excited and he can only imagine the cute things he must be doing with his face.

He texts back that he'd rather they eat somewhere with a proper table and an actual kitchen and then sets out for Cecil's place, not seeing Erika again when he went back outside.

He thinks to himself how absurd it is that he knows that it's because Erika knew where he was going. He sighs a long sigh. For science, and what this town has done to her.

Carlos cooks up a dish he's helped his mother make before, just meat and cheese and vegetables on (gluten free) tortillas. It isn't anything special or fancy, but it's something he knows Cecil will like. 

He gets a call from Cecil as he cooks and he tells him about the mirage, hearing about it later on the radio, attributing the added description about how he waved the spatula as he spoke to whatever was always watching the citizens of night vale, be it the police or something else. 

Carlos got the feeling that it was better to not know, as was the case with so many things in Night Vale, a conclusion he had a hard time coming to his first year in town. Whatever is was, it seemed to be on friendly terms with everyone down at the radio station.

He fixes up the food neatly, finding some nice looking plates in Cecil's cupboard to put it on. Cecil has a nice collection of wine to choose from, and Carlos picks a red Bordeaux and sticks it in the freezer to chill, not sure how soon Cecil was going to be home.

Cecil has an odd collection of glasses, none of them matching and most of them in interesting shapes. He finds some tall and round ones, the kind good for red wine, one of them dark purple with twisting glass shapes around the stem, like vines or tentacles, and another one colored an orange to yellow gradient, simple and plain.

He's setting the glasses down when he hears the door open, jumping as Cecil comes in.

"Carlos!" Cecil calls as he kicks off his shoes. Carlos can tell he's excited by the way his feet are shuffling down the hall. "Ahh it smells so good in here!"

Carlos turns to him as he walks in, embracing him and planting a kiss on his lips. Cecil gasps at the set up and gives Carlos a big smile that makes his chest feel tight.

"Come on, sit down." Carlos pulls a chair back for him, the one he set the purple glass next to, and pushes it in for him as he sits.

"Thank you," Cecil says sweetly, scooting in and getting comfortable.

"Let me grab the wine," Carlos says as he slips out of Cecil's dining area, grinning as he sees the look of heavy concern Cecil wears as he leaves. He grabs the bottle and returns shortly, a little embarrassed that he had to stick it in the freezer instead of doing something classier, like putting it in a bowl of ice.

Cecil didn't seem to mind, though, and he looks up at him with loving eyes as he pours his glass. He mouths a 'thank you' to him as he finishes and sits down himself.

They eat, and Cecil talks about how wonderful it is, how good it tastes, how nice it is to eat in finally, and Carlos finds himself refilling their glasses sooner than he thought. 

Carlos sits and listens as Cecil talks about his day, like he preferred to do. He awkwardly accepts Cecil's compliments, never really sure what to say when Cecil gushes over him, when _anyone_ gushes over him. 

But as he watches Cecil's eyes light up, the way he moves his hands as he talks and how he feels his heart swell when Cecil looks right at him, he realizes that even if he doesn't always know how to respond, there wasn't anything wrong with having someone to gush over you like that.

It's okay for him to have someone to sit and listen while he rambles on and on about what he thinks about the stars, to have someone ask the reasons for his panic attacks and to remind him to take his antidepressants instead of telling him to go to therapy and breaking up with him because he was "too much work" or because he was "too sad all the time."

There's a moment where Cecil runs out of things to say and eats his food and drinks his wine. A short, quiet moment where Carlos thinks all the things he wants to say about Cecil could spill from his lips.

Carlos stays quiet, though, because he's sure that if he started he wouldn't be able to stop, and by the end of the night he'd be a sobbing, quivering mess.

"This is nice." Cecil says finally, quietly, and Carlos meets his eyes and smiles.

"Yeah, it is."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got so many nice comments on the last chapter and I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to say something nice about my work! And here is the ending, written quite a while ago. Something I forgot to mention last chapter is that I made [a mix on 8tracks](http://8tracks.com/astrogyaru/self-reliant) inspired by this fic and Carlos' feelings, so if you like this story go and maybe give that a listen, too.

They wash the dishes together and Cecil playfully bumps Carlos with his hips. There may have been some foul play with bubbles but by the end of it the dishes are clean and they're laughing and Carlos steals a kiss from him and it's soft and slow and nice. Cecil takes his hands and kisses him back and Carlos can feel him smile against his lips.

Cecil offers to put a movie on, and he drags Carlos into his living room to show him his DVDs. Carlos notes that a lot of them are horror movies, but knowing where Cecil grew up, they were probably slice-of-life to Cecil.

Cecil picks up Silent Hill and says it's a neat little movie. Carlos says he's never seen it, but he's played the games and is a little curious.

"Games? How do you play?" Cecil says cheerfully as they settle on the couch. "Is it kind of like hide-and-seek?"

"No." Carlos says. Oh Cecil, bless his heart. "They're video games, they're, uh, pretty popular."

"Right, right." Cecil says, nodding. Carlos knows he isn't one for video games and the other nerdy things Carlos was into, but Cecil seems interested in them enough. In a 'I don't really understand a lot of this, but you like it so it's probably so wonderful, and, gosh, you have so many interests' way.

The movie starts and Cecil reaches to turn off the lamp next to them, leaving them in darkness. Carlos thinks its all kind of romantic, cuddling on the couch in the dark with a scary movie. Cecil doesn't find a lot of it scary, though he does gasp softly at the gory parts, just a small inhale of air that Carlos finds very adorable. Carlos isn't as immune to the movie and is kind of pathetic during some scenes, unable to watch when a monster tears the skin off of one of the characters. Cecil giggles and lets Carlos shamelessly bury his face in the crook of his neck.

They laugh at the cheesier lines in the dialogue and Cecil nitpicks the logistics of some of the scenes ("Oh come ON, the smell of her perfume wouldn't transcend into another reality") which Carlos thought should be his job, considering he's a scientist, but Cecil does it more in the spirit of offense and being annoyed with the inaccuracy of some of the creatures than anything.

Throughout the movie, they get closer and closer, and Carlos steals kisses from him during the boring scenes. They're in each other's laps by the end of it, laughing softly and touching each other, both slightly drunk and both content just to feel the other's warmth.

The credits are rolling when Cecil gets a little more daring and licks at Carlos' lips as he kisses him. Carlos starts and pulls back for a moment, but Cecil is persistent and his hands stroke his cheek and hair so nicely, and he melts into his mouth and kisses him back. His heart is pounding in his chest and he's breathless and grasping at Cecil wherever he can, but god he wants this so bad and he can himself getting hard, his legs getting hot. Cecil's hands are on his chest and the pressure is nice. Carlos touches his waist and he sneaks under his shirt, feeling Cecil's skin, so soft and warm under his hands.

That seems to encourage Cecil more, and he playfully nips at Carlos' lower lip, giggling when Carlos gasps in return. Carlos' hands move to his hips and pull him closer and Cecil makes a high pitched noise and eagerly climbs into Carlos' lap. Carlos feels his face go hot when he Cecil straddles his thigh and is very much aroused. He palms Cecil through his pants and he groans into his mouth. Carlos gives him a squeeze and Cecil breaks the kiss suddenly, giving him an intense look.

"I want you," he says in a hushed voice, whispering his name when he goes to kiss his neck. Carlos shivers, because _fuck,_ he wants Cecil too.

He pulls Cecil's shirt over his head and he wiggles out of it, giving Carlos a smirk as he starts to unbutton the flannel he's wearing. Carlos steadies Cecil by placing his hands firmly at his hips, feeling his hipbones and moving his hands down, down to his thighs and up again.

Cecil's eyes are locked with his as he slowly pushes the shirt off. Carlos leans forward to let him get it off completely before stripping off his undershirt, knocking Cecil off balance as he does. Cecil laughs, and his smile is so nice and warm and Carlos laughs too.

Cecil ends up pulling him off the couch and leading him to his room, their hands clasped the whole time. Carlos goes in first, Cecil closing the door behind them. He's about to say something, but Cecil is working at his belt and pulls it off fast and hard, and he laughs instead and helps Cecil wriggle out of his pants. Cecil pushes him down onto the bed, roughly but playfully, and strips off his own underwear, looking right at him, biting his lip and moving his hips in a way that make him want to groan, to just reach out and grab him and kiss the dips of his hipbones.

Carlos watches him crawl onto the bed, hard and wanting very badly to reach forward and touch him. He pulls off Carlos' underwear and his cock springs back and is hard against his belly. Carlos' breath catches in his throat.

Cecil settles on his stomach, his head between Carlos' legs and it's all just right and Cecil gives him a sly smile as he takes his cock into his mouth. Carlos' hand is in his hair, not roughly or pushing at him, just a gentle pressure as Cecil licks at him, Carlos making breathy little noises and shallow little thrusts into his mouth.

Carlos is leaning against the headboard when Cecil slides a condom on him, when he watches Cecil spread lube all over his cock and finger himself with his slippery fingers. Cecil puts all on his weight against Carlos as he rides him, his arms around his neck and hands in his hair. They moan, they're loud, they bite and kiss each others lips messily and Carlos' hands grip Cecil tight as they move together. Cecil makes cute little noises when he squeezes the flesh of his ass, when he rubs his hand against his cock, and Carlos throws his head back when Cecil rolls his hips just _so._

They go hard and fast, then slow, so slow and gentle, just a rocking as they taste each other and touch each other, their hands everywhere, groping and stroking and rubbing. Carlos likes when Cecil touches his chest and palms his nipples. Cecil likes it when Carlos leans him back a bit and _"yes, oh Carlos just like that"_ spills from his lips as he tugs at Carlos' hair tighter, pulling at him in a way that Carlos didn't know he liked.

They speed up and Carlos slips out of him and Cecil giggles when he slides him back in. Carlos didn't think there would be this much laughing. He didn't think it would last so long, hadn't even really thought about how long they had been at it until he was wondering when they had both gotten so sweaty, when Cecil is pouring more lube onto him and _oh, wow it's all slippery again_ and Carlos whimpers and he slides into that tight heat, over and over. They speed up and scream and cry out together and come together, with breathy little sobs and sloppy kisses. Carlos feels like he's coming forever, clinging to Cecil as he draws out his orgasm with his hips, slowly taking him in and deep as they spasm against each other, their breaths getting slower and longer as they come down from it all.

Cecil gets to cleaning them up and Carlos can only really lie there, sweaty and exhausted even though Cecil did most of the moving. He turns off the light and settles in bed next to him, gently placing a hand on his chest and nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Carlos wraps an arm around his waist and strokes the skin there.

Cecil gives a content little hum as he traces his fingers along his chest, his touches light and soft. 

"What?" Carlos breathes, laughing softly.

He can feel Cecil smile against him. "That was perfect."

He turns his head to plant a kiss in his hair. It was far from perfect. Carlos isn't sure if perfect sex is even a thing, but it _was_ very good sex and perfect was a word Cecil just liked to use.

They doze off, moving around a bit sleepily and somehow Carlos ends up as the little spoon because that's how he is when he wakes up around four a.m.

He doesn't get back to sleep for a while, and that while is spent turned around and facing Cecil, watching him sleep and touching his hair. Carlos tucks his head under his chin and wraps his arms around tight. Cecil gives him a squeeze back and he falls asleep.

Carlos sees a forest in his dreams that night. It is filled with impossibly tall fir trees and complex hills and valleys that he cannot navigate. There are fallen trees and logs on the floor that he climbs onto, all the while hearing someone telling him it's time to go, time to leave, that they all have to leave.

He starts to make his way out, stumbled down slopes of soft dirt and tripping over rocks and branches. There's a moose that runs by, that he doesn't really see but he knows is there. 

Right at the edge of the forest is a place he knows is his childhood home, a house built on shaky stilts, it looks nothing like it did in real life and he doesn't pay any mind to that. It is his childhood home, the house he grew up in, this he knows. There is a car, and someone telling him they need to leave.

He will, he thinks, he has to leave with them, but out in the open he can see Cecil there, and he's telling him to go back in, that there's something they need to see.

Carlos lets Cecil lead him back into the forest. The ground is flat now, and the trees more dense. He lets Cecil pull him by his hand and he doesn't protest, he follows him, gripping his hand tight.

At one point they're not really in the forest anymore and instead all around them are hills, covered in tall grass and flowers, stretching out in all directions. Cecil leads him to a spot with another house, different, bigger, _nicer,_ but it's the same house, really. Carlos knows its the same house, but he also knows it's different.

Cecil leads him inside and the ceilings are so, so tall and the floors drop into impossible depths in the corners of some rooms, but he finds a nook built into the ceiling and climbs into it.

Cecil was the one who opened the door and let him in but he knows he isn't there now, because this is Carlos' place. He remembers vaguely that he was supposed to get in that car and leave, but it isn't important anymore. He is wrapped up in the tight space he found, in a house that is odd and built wrong, but it is brightly lit and he feels safe as long as he avoids the holes in the floor.

He slips out of his dream and into consciousness, already forgetting most of the details.

"Good morning." Cecil is saying, pushing hair out of his face.

His hair is messy and his eyes are tired but Cecil is smiling down at him in a way that he feels in his chest, like his heart could break him open, and it would hurt and be terrifying and it would be perfect and wonderful. And Cecil could see, just see how his heart swells with every honeyed word Cecil gives him, every gentle touch and look, every kiss, the tender ones and the messy ones.

He would let himself break open and Cecil wouldn't be the one to put it back together, to sew his chest shut tighter and tighter like Carlos had tried to do so many times before. Instead he would help Carlos put it back together with little cracks and holes so it wouldn't all shatter at once, just maybe a piece here or there. And they could put it back and maybe sometimes it would all break again, but they could always put it back.

Carlos can feel himself breaking open. It aches in a way that is quiet and nice.

"What?" Cecil says with a laugh, because Carlos is just looking at him, and he looks so happy,

"I love you," he says, reaching up to touch his face.

Cecil puts his hand over his, smiling at him softly and Carlos watches his eyes, shining and beautiful.

"I love you too." Cecil's hand drops to touch his cheek, his jaw, stroking softly as he leans in to kiss him.

Carlos could tell him, maybe, someday, about the cracks and his heart and how he tried to sew himself shut. About the forest and the house and the stars and planets. About how he knows he is just as much made of comets as Cecil is, he just doesn't always believe it, but that's okay because sometimes he does. Someday he would find the words and say it all.

Some other day, though.

Because now, Cecil kisses him and Carlos knows he is wide open but it's okay. He lets his love pour out and knows that if other things pour out, it'll be okay too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the end. I hope it doesn't seem rushed. This whole fic is more focused on how Carlos feels rather than an actual plot, though I guess his highs and lows and him figuring out, in his own weird and poetic way, that it's okay for him to be in a relationship and gain confidence and happiness from someone else is the plot. Nothing much really happens, but the focus is on Carlos' inner thoughts, how his mind works, how he rationalizes his happiness and the fact that he feels he _has to_ before he can really be happy.
> 
> I plan on write more WTNV fic pretty soon, so I guess look forward to that? Also this is the first multi-chapter fic I've ever finished before so I'm pretty proud of myself.


End file.
